But where corpses were buried secretly, there the grass grows thick; such signs {and there are ever so many others!} may be read by those to whom truth is more important than beauty.
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
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In William T. Vollmann's "The Ice-Shirt," the author presents a thought-provoking reflection on the relationship between hidden truths and the consequences of ignoring them. The imagery of thick grass growing over secretly buried corpses symbolizes how concealed realities can persist beneath an illusion of beauty. Such metaphors remind readers that neglecting the darker aspects of life can lead to an unacknowledged existence fraught with buried histories.

The quote emphasizes the value of seeking truth over superficial aesthetics. It suggests that only those who prioritize understanding the deeper realities can discern the signs of what lies beneath the surface. Vollmann encourages a confrontation with uncomfortable truths, highlighting that recognizing and honoring these hidden aspects can lead to a more profound comprehension of the human experience.

In William T. Vollmann's "The Ice-Shirt," the author presents a thought-provoking reflection on the relationship between hidden truths and the consequences of ignoring them. The imagery of thick grass growing over secretly buried corpses symbolizes how concealed realities can persist beneath an illusion of beauty. Such metaphors remind readers that neglecting the darker aspects of life can lead to an unacknowledged existence fraught with buried histories.

The quote emphasizes the value of seeking truth over superficial aesthetics. It suggests that only those who prioritize understanding the deeper realities can discern the signs of what lies beneath the surface. Vollmann encourages a confrontation with uncomfortable truths, highlighting that recognizing and honoring these hidden aspects can lead to a more profound comprehension of the human experience.

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The Ice-Shirt
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William T. Vollmann
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Other quotes in The Ice-Shirt

The landscape around us is but a shadow of the landscape within us.
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
The landscape around us is but a shadow of the landscape within us.
But I don't think a river wants anything, except to be itself. Just like anybody and anything. I don't think it claimed a soul. I don't think it's at all vindictive or vicious, just itself. It just seemed very honest. If you hear a river moan, you know it has life.
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
But I don't think a river wants anything, except to be itself. Just like anybody and anything. I don't think it claimed a soul. I don't think it's at all vindictive or vicious, just itself. It just seemed very honest. If you hear a river moan, you know it has life.
Looking at her, thinking of her transported him, which struck him as vile because now it was hard for him not to despise the icy serenity of their earlier relations. And he knew that he should not love her, for she had been someone else whom he was supposed to love differently. -What is loneliness? Does the lonely space between two rocks vanish when spanned by a spider web?
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
Looking at her, thinking of her transported him, which struck him as vile because now it was hard for him not to despise the icy serenity of their earlier relations. And he knew that he should not love her, for she had been someone else whom he was supposed to love differently. -What is loneliness? Does the lonely space between two rocks vanish when spanned by a spider web?
But where corpses were buried secretly, there the grass grows thick; such signs {and there are ever so many others!} may be read by those to whom truth is more important than beauty.
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
But where corpses were buried secretly, there the grass grows thick; such signs {and there are ever so many others!} may be read by those to whom truth is more important than beauty.
{Can you understand your own dreams, which arise with mushrooms' rank richness in the night-forests within your skull?}
William T. Vollmann The Ice-Shirt
{Can you understand your own dreams, which arise with mushrooms' rank richness in the night-forests within your skull?}
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Other quotes in death

I do not know, nor do I care to remember The time in which I knew distinctly that you were gone You fade in and out of memory Upon which I can not feign to touch Or feel How cruel to leave me With paper but no pen What a way to leave me You give me cups, but not water to fill them So they sit there Empty Your reflection Bouncing to and fro From every surface
Queenbe Monyei
I do not know, nor do I care to remember The time in which I knew distinctly that you were gone You fade in and out of memory Upon which I can not feign to touch Or feel How cruel to leave me With paper but no pen What a way to leave me You give me cups, but not water to fill them So they sit there Empty Your reflection Bouncing to and fro From every surface
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.
William Shakespeare Twelfth Night
Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel
William Shakespeare
For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel
Men must endureTheir going hence, even as their coming hither.Ripeness is all.
William Shakespeare King Lear
Men must endureTheir going hence, even as their coming hither.Ripeness is all.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth,Let's choose executors and talk of wills
William Shakespeare Richard II
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth,Let's choose executors and talk of wills
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourish'd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare Sonnets
That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourish'd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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